


Hanakotoba

by Curionenene



Series: Zinnia [3]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blindness, Disabled Character, Drama, Historical, Injury, M/M, Oiran AU, Realistic Fantasy, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 02:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11198172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curionenene/pseuds/Curionenene
Summary: Flowers are their own language. And sometimes, as Donghae finds, you need that to lead a blind man back to sight.





	Hanakotoba

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot can be read without reading it’s predecessors, Zinnia and Ikebana, but you’ll probably be as confused as hell, so I suggest you do.

When Hyukjae left for the war, Donghae kissed him soft on the lips and pressed a bunch of flowers into his hand. 

It was the oddest bunch of flowers at first glance – no scheme of colour nor shape. It almost seemed like a child-picked bouquet of random flowers that had caught his fancy. 

But Donghae had explained. 

“Yellow poppy for success, pink rose for confidence, peony for bravery.” He tucked each lovingly into a groove of Hyukjae’s armor. “And edelweiss for courage and power."

“What about that last one?” Hyukjae pointed to the last one, held tight in Donghae’s hand, reaching out for it. 

But Donghae had pulled it away. “This one’s for me.” 

Hyukjae had smiled, a little puzzled, but he smiled nevertheless. And his breath was soft against Donghae’s cheek and ear. “I’ll keep them safe.” He had said as he mounted his horse, proudly showing the flowers off even though they looked more than a little odd against the gold and bronze of his imperial armor.

He’d waved them off, standing among the multitudes, sending them off with wishes of good luck. There was fanfare, and there was a gay procession that hid the raw tension underneath – as if people were not sending their loved ones off towards uncertain death. 

When everyone had left, Donghae was still there. And it was not till late in the night when Kyuhyun managed to persuade him, that he was pulled to bed. 

And even then, he clutched that single flower to his breast – that white camellia. The flower of waiting. 

~*~ 

He did not know how much time had passed. 

The days all blurred together, like one political whirlwind. War was said not to be fought by soldiers but by paperwork, and Hyukjae’s absence meant even more administrative burden on the crown prince himself. Donghae didn’t know a single thing about that, but he did know that any war – winning or losing, made people anxious, and anxiety made people disgruntled. So Donghae did what he could to settle that unease, behaving correctly, attending parties and pandering to fat, old, arrogant but important court officials. 

Party after party, dance after dance, tea ceremony after tea ceremony, dreary conversation after dreary conversation. 

But still, he let the assistants paint a smile on his face each morning and paraded around for vultures to survey. It was the only thing Donghae could do for Hyukjae in his absence after all. 

Every day, he watered the white camellia sat in a glass vase on the sill beside their bed. 

~*~ 

Then finally came the day. 

No one knew that it was  _ the day _ . Everyone woke up, grumbled a little, and went about their daily duties. Donghae was, in fact, in the middle of what felt like the hundredth court session in two days when there was a shout and a messenger came tumbling in, stuttering out that the imperial army was riding towards the gates. 

Donghae wasted no two seconds to think. He rushed out of the room, irregardless that court was still in session, that he was breaking a hundred protocol rules, and that he was in royal court dress and looked extremely unsightly trying to run in full length robes. But all that wouldn’t matter, because the next thing Donghae knew, the crown prince himself was running beside Donghae, helping Donghae right himself whenever he tripped over the complicated robes. And Donghae gave Siwon a grateful smile – it was times like that that Donghae was reminded of how much the crown prince loved his brother, even if his methods of showing it weren’t always apparent. 

Like two maniacs they ran – in a most undignified show. They no doubt would become the palace talk of the week. But Donghae didn’t care. Not when he saw that familiar figure riding through the palace courtyard. 

He didn’t feel the crown prince slowly stop behind him, nor the warning shout that he gave. He didn’t realize that something was wrong until it was too late. 

“Hyukjae! Hyukjae!” He ran up beside the horse, reaching with out stretched arms. 

But Hyukjae didn’t reach back, nor did he even seem to see that Donghae was there. Confused, Donghae reached out and tugged at Hyukjae’s sleeve, and it was only then that Donghae realized why.

Eyes that were once so bright and full of life were now dull, and they roamed around without a focus, like a life without a direction. 

And then, Hyukjae finally called his name. “Donghae?” 

But Donghae couldn’t answer, for if he did, it would betray the tears on his face. His throat burning with the taste of vanilla salt, he could only watch as sightless eyes searched for him in vain. 

Hyukjae was blind. 

~*~ 

“They say that he was injured when he protected one of his men.” 

“He should have been more careful.” 

“But he’s so noble.” 

“He did the right thing.” 

“I wonder what will happen now. How can a blind man still operate in court?” 

“Shhh… such thinking will get you beheaded.” 

Donghae sighed, emerging from behind the pillar from where he had been hiding as the gossipers moved away. It had been like this all day, hearing snippets of news and opinion from eavesdropping on others. Which was silly, considering he was one of the few who could actually hear what happened from the horse’s mouth. 

But, Hyukjae seemed like a different person. He was quiet and subdued – an air of defeat around him. He answered all of Donghae’s questions with one word and waved off any of Donghae’s worries with an irritated shrug. Lying in the bed, he looked so frail and vulnerable that Donghae worried that if he even so much as breathed on him, he might break. 

He’d excused himself from the room, practically stumbling out as he mumbled about doing something or somewhat. 

Just thinking about it made his chest tighten. And suddenly, even outside the room was too close. The corridor was spinning as he half ran, his chest tight and painful. And he almost felt he was dying when he colliding into someone on his way to somewhere – anywhere far from that suffocating room. 

“Donghae?” 

And he looked up into concerned, familiar eyes. Sagging in relief, Donghae clutched at his friend, even though he would never admit his gratitude to the person’s knowledge. “Kyuhyun.” 

“Not insulting me, huh?” Kyuhyun looked down with a sizing look. “Then I guess something is wrong. Let’s go out to the garden.” 

~*~ 

“So you ran.” 

Donghae looked into the face of his best friend in the palace; the only one he could confide his feelings to beside Hyukjae, the person who was probably risking being late to some important meeting or another just to listen to him rant, and scoffed. “I didn’t run.” 

Kyuhyun folded his arms, his shrewd disbelief hidden behind a polite mask – but Donghae knew it was there. It leaked out through his voice. “Oh?"

“Well, I only walked really, really fast.” 

“Donghae. You ran.” Somehow, the usually sly-tongued and sarcastic Kyuhyun was being entirely serious. There wasn’t any of that strategic verbal abuse, or even wry jibes at his expense. Only the blunt, unapologetic truth. “And I don’t mean physically. You’re running away from the problem.” 

Somehow, that was worse. 

“I don’t know what to say to him, Kyuhyun.” Donghae admitted, looking away. “He’s so different. I feel that I don’t know him anymore.” 

“He’s still the same Hyukjae. He’s just going through a tough time now, and he needs you to be there for him.” Kyuhyun sighed, stopping himself in time from running a frustrated hand through his hair. He had been on his way with an audience with an ambassador from Xing to aid Zhou Mi in a discussion for new treaties concerning their two countries. To redo his hairstyle would make him later than he already was. “Look, Donghae. Just give him time.” 

~*~ 

And so Donghae did. 

He waited while Hyukjae recuperated, his body slowly healing from the shock of losing his sight and the strain from war. 

He waited while Hyukjae got used to moving around without sight. Waited while Hyukjae learnt to drink from a cup without spilling all over himself. Waited while Hyukjae mastered the use of his cane, staying beside him to right him in case he ever fell. 

Waited while he stayed there right beside Hyukjae, whispering words of encouragement and love, and the only thing he ever got in return were stares that went right through him as if he wasn’t even there. 

Finally, he got tired of waiting. 

~*~ 

Donghae knew who was standing behind him even before the person spoke. 

“Go away, Kyuhyun.” He mumbled into his knees, tears soaking into the satin dark blue of his robe, turning it black. 

Kyuhyun heaved a sigh, rubbing a knuckle against his temple. He was going to get wrinkles with all the worrying he was doing. “You know I can’t do that. The crown prince himself ordered me to find you. And besides, my poor Zhou Mi is stuck trying to calm Hyukjae down. You do know that even ask irate Hyukjae is, if he orders Zhou Mi to be beheaded, the order will stick.

Donghae sniffled into his robe. But he knew that what Kyuhyun said was true. “I got mad at him, Kyuhyun. I shouted at him. I feel like an idiot, Kyuhyun. How could I shout at him? He’s too fragile for that.” 

“Yes, you are an idiot. But you’re even more of an idiot for running away.” Kyuhyun squatted beside Donghae, pursing his lips. “You need to go back.” 

“I know.” 

“Then what you waiting for?” Kyuhyun asked, aiming a well aimed poked that made Donghae look up, eyes puffy and nose red. 

Donghae swallowed, hands tightening before loosening again. “A miracle?” 

Kyuhyun let out a long suffering breath, reaching out to wrap Donghae into a pair of comforting arms. “Oh, Donghae.” 

They both knew that it wasn’t the pair of arms Donghae wanted wrapped around him. But for now, it was enough. 

~*~ 

The sound of breaking glass made them both rush into the room.

It was a mess inside. Books and papers everywhere, chairs overturned. It was as if a demon wrecked havoc inside. 

Was wrecking havoc.

Although Zhou Mi paused in his actions when both Kyuhyun and Donghae came into the room, Hyukjae didn’t. Lost in his anger, he couldn’t hear, much less sense, the change. 

“I hate it!” He screamed, chucking a pillow straight at Zhou Mi, who, suddenly stuck in fear, couldn’t dodge it. “I’m so useless. I can’t eat by myself, drink by myself, walk by myself. I can’t even go to the blasted toilet by myself. Gods, I’m so useless that Donghae is angry at me for being so useless.” 

“Hyukjae, that’s not true.” 

“It is! He told me so himself. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t be able to love someone so useless he can’t even see the person he loves anymore."

“Hyukjae-” 

“TELL ME! HOW CAN ANYONE LOVE SOMEONE AS USELESS AS ME?” 

Until it was too late. 

In the eerie silence that followed, no one dared to move, not even to breath. Then finally, Donghae swallowed, stepping forward. “Hyukjae.”

The prince snapped his head up, his eyes, for the first time in a long while, looked straight at Donghae. 

Donghae had never seen so much fear in those eyes before.

“You heard, didn’t you?” 

“Hyukjae, I-” 

But Hyukjae shunned the hand that was placed on his shoulder. Shunned Donghae’s effort in reaching out. “Go away.” 

“Hyukjae, please. I still love you.” 

“Go away! GO AWAY!” 

~*~ 

It was Zhou Mi this time who discovered him this time. No doubt, Kyuhyun had been indisposed and told Zhou Mi where to find him. 

“Donghae-nim. Please, you can’t stay out there all night, you’ll get sick.” Zhou Mi offered a hand to Donghae, who slapped it away, wiping hasty tears. 

“If he can act like a child, throwing tantrums all day, then so can I.” Donghae sniffed angrily. They both knew who ‘he’ was referring too. 

Zhou Mi sighed, sitting down beside Donghae, and bracing himself for a long night. “Donghae-nim, there’s no need to blame yourself. You’re already trying your best.” 

“I’m not blaming myself.” Donghae denied, but they both knew that was but an empty statement. “…And it seems like my best isn’t good enough.” 

“Oh, Donghae.” Zhou Mi sighed, dropping his impeccable sense of protocol for once and wrapped gangly arms around Donghae. “Prince Hyukjae is my best friend, and I hate to see him like this. But even I understand where he’d coming from. He’s always had a strong sense of pride in what he did, but now, it’s all been taken away from him.” 

“That’s silly.” Donghae mumbled, raising a snort from Zhou Mi. 

“I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t find it so silly if you were in the same situation. You were a Zinnia, and if Kyuhyun is any indication, at that point of time, your pride was the only thing you had left. At the moment, Hyukjae doesn’t even have that left.” 

“He has me.” The statement was thrown like a lifebuoy, and the desperation in Donghae’s voice made Zhou Mi’s heart break. 

“Yes, he does. But he doesn’t realize it. He’s blind, Donghae. In more than one way. You have to make him see.” 

“Make him see, huh.” Donghae closed his eyes before opening them. He pushed away from Zhou Mi, standing with an expression of calm conviction. “I understand. Thank you, Zhou Mi-nim.” 

And watching Donghae walk away so dignified, yet with such pain hidden in each of his steps, Zhou Mi thought that maybe, Donghae didn’t fully yet understand the meaning underlying his words. 

Still, he could do nothing but pray, for that was something that Donghae had to figure out for himself. 

~*~ 

Days passed. 

But things only grew worse. 

~*~ 

“You look horrible, Donghae.” Kyuhyun said to Donghae one day as they were walking through the park. Or rather, Kyuhyun had dragged Donghae away from Hyukjae’s side. The constant presence of each other didn’t seem to be doing either of them any good. 

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Kyuhyun.” Donghae knew he looked like a wreck. It’d felt like an eternity since he’d gotten any good amount of sleep. “I don’t know what to do, Kyuhyun. I’ve tried everything. Asking Siwon-nim to talk to him, Zhou Mi-nim, Kangin-nim. I’ve tried just being by his side, I’ve tried to tell him he’s not useless. I’ve tried logic, I’ve tried guilt trips, I’ve even tried to make love to him. I kiss him everyday in hopes that he’ll be able to receive the feelings through each kiss, but I only feel deadness and obligation on his lips in response. I don’t know what to do anymore…” 

Kyuhyun shook his head, reaching out to brush the uncombed hair out of Donghae’s face. “You know, maybe if you told him-” 

“Anything I say only seems to make it worse.” Donghae interjected, rubbing eyes worn red. “Honestly, leaving him alone seems the best option now.” 

“No,  _ that’d _ only make it worse. He needs you there.” Kyuhyun grabbed Donghae’s arm, unable to stand it anymore. He didn’t care who saw, or who would report it to so-and-so, or that it would become palace gossip. Two of his best friends were suffering and Kyuhyun was the only one with presence of mind to slap some sense into them. “Donghae, you love him don’t you?” 

“Wha- of course I do, Kyuhyun. Don’t be silly.” Donghae tried to tear his arm away, but he only got a rough tug for his troubles, and a firm hand forcing him to look at frustrated brown eyes. 

“Then that’s enough.” Kyuhyun shook Donghae, as if the movement would make the truth sink in. “Empathy, political correctness, stepping around landmines and feelings – they’re all useless techniques. You will never know how he feels, and trying to do so will only ring false. Tell him you love him, Donghae. It will be enough.” 

“But I have, Kyuhyun.” Donghae whispered, voice broken with grief. “He’s not listening.” 

“Then  _ make _ him listen.” Kyuhyun rolled his eyes, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know you Donghae – you may be silly and irrational most of the time, but when it comes to things that are important, you’re stubborn and immovable until you get those things done.” 

Donghae stared up at Kyuhyun, the tears still falling, but his eyes firmed and he had to hide a smile at Kyuhyun’s exasperation. 

“I’m not stubborn and immovable, you manipulative snake.” 

Kyuhyun laughed then. “Now that’s the Donghae I know.” 

~*~ 

“Hyukjae, can I talk to you?” 

The person in the chair barely turned around. He was dressed in solemn robes of black and gold, sitting in the midst of cold extravagance. And when he spoke, it was with scathing indifference and self-loath. Donghae could hardly recognize the love of his life anymore.

“Sure. There isn’t anything else I  _ can _ do anyway.” 

But he couldn’t let it get to him. Kyuhyun was right – if Donghae didn’t do something about this now, he’d lose Hyukjae forever. 

So, he gathered up his courage, walking up to the imposing figure of grey and knelt before it. He reached out for that limp hand, and pressed a single flower into it. 

Hyukjae paused, lifting the flower up to smell, bewilderment colouring his expression. “What is this?” 

“Do you remember the day you left?” Donghae’s mouth was dry, and he licked his lips, sorely wishing for eloquence he didn’t have. “I gave you a bunch flowers, but I kept one for myself. You asked about it, but I said that it wasn’t for you, but for me?"

There was silence, and a pensive look on Hyukjae’s face. As if he didn’t know what the question would lead too, and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

But Donghae couldn’t let him. “Hyukjae?” 

“…Yes. Yes, I do.” Hyukjae finally said, his fingers curling tightly around the flower. “Why?” 

“This is the exact same flower.” Donghae revealed, reaching out to touch one of it’s soft white petals. “The white camellia. Do you know what it stands for in the language of flowers?” 

There was a wry smile, sad and painful. “No. Should I?” 

Donghae ignored the hidden pitfall in Hyukjae’s words, his next words rushed and breathless. “It means ‘waiting’. I kept this flower with me when I gave you the rest, because it meant that I was waiting for you.” 

“So…” 

“So I was planning to throw it away when you came back, because then I would have no more use for the flower. Because my wait would have been over and you’d have come back to me. But I haven’t. Do you know why?” 

The silence then was deadly. And for a moment, Donghae was almost too afraid to continue. But he knew that he must. 

“It’s because I’m still waiting for you, Hyukjae.” 

There was a pause. And then Hyukjae shook his head, confused. “What do you mean? I’m here aren’t I?” 

“No, you’re not.” Frustration. Anger. “You’re not here. Hyukjae, you said that you’re angry that you can’t see me right? Well, you’re right, you can’t see me. But not because your eyes are blind, but because your heart is blind.” 

He reached out then, hand closing around Hyukjae’s, as if trying to reach out to a faraway place despite his physically being right there. 

“Hyukjae. I’m right here? Why can’t see me?” Donghae pleaded. “Why can’t you  _ see _ me?” 

The tension lay heavy in the room, like a blanket of chilling snow. And each second was a stab to Donghae’s heart, as was Hyukjae’s defeated sigh. 

“But… what would want with a blind man?” Hyukjae threw out, like a dying man’s last resort. But Donghae was prepared for this, and pulled out a knife, slashing it across his hand. 

Hyukjae, even blind, could still smell the scent of flesh blood and hear the soft grunt of pain. Alarmed, he reached out for Donghae’s hand, and felt cold, thick liquid well up between the skin. “Hae? What did you do? Did you just cut yourself?!” 

“Hyukjae.” Donghae continued calmly, as if Hyukjae hadn’t just talked. “Did you know that different colours of flowers have different meanings. Take the rose for an example. A pink rose may mean confidence, but a white one means devotion. The same goes for the camellia. A white one may mean longing but…” 

Donghae reached for the camellia against, wrapping his bleeding hand around its petals before handing it back to Hyukjae. “A red one means ‘in love’.” 

It took Hyukjae a few seconds, but he began to tremble in understanding. The hand holding the camellia shaking. 

“Hyukjae.” Donghae reached out, steadying that hand. “I love you. I don’t want to hold onto a white camellia, no matter how pretty it is. I want a red camellia, even if I have to bleed to make one. I want you to come home to me. Please?” 

The flower was tossed to the side - for metaphors, no matter how fitting, were no substitute for the real thing. And strong familiar arms lifted Donghae up, familiar lips pressing against his. 

It was not one of those mockeries he’d been given for the past days, not one out of obligation. It wasn’t even one between a prince with his consort. It was a kiss between lovers. 

It was the kiss Donghae had been waiting for. And when it was over, Hyukjae rested his head against the crook of Donghae’s neck, like man seeking respite at the end of a long day. 

Donghae smiled, kissing Hyukjae’s temple. And he grinned back at the sightless eyes that now looked lovingly straight at him. 

“I see you, Donghae.” Hyukjae whispered, the apology plain on his lips. “I’m sorry, but I’m finally back home.” 

And finally, Donghae wrapped his arms around his prince, in a gesture of reunion. The smile spoke volumes of the joy in his heart long overdue. 

“Welcome home.” 

~*~ 


End file.
